


Scenes from an Inquisition - Judgment

by Schattenriss



Series: The Contours of Shadows [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Judgment, M/M, Some Humor, The Past is Always Lurking Behind You, relationship and explanations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 03:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11005422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss
Summary: Disgraced Magister Livius Erimond is in the hands of the Inquisiton and Inquisitor Kai Trevelyan must decide his fate.





	Scenes from an Inquisition - Judgment

**Author's Note:**

> Scenes From an Inquisition came about because I didn't want to write an adaption of a playthrough of DAI, but there are in-between scenes that happened off-camera / out of game that I wanted to explore along with occasional in-game scenes that I wanted to expand on.
> 
> Each scene is complete and, depending on the content, may stick close to or stray far from canon. They will also vary in rating and complexity of plot. They likely won't be in strict chronological order. They all supplement the rest of the series of works featuring Kai Trevelyan, but can all be read as stand-alones.

“So this is the big day, is it?” Dorian was lounging in one of the comfortable chairs we’d commandeered for my quarters when he moved in, drinking tea and looking quite content. As he was still dressed only in his smallclothes, I approved of the view and our decision to take the chairs.

“Well, we can’t leave him down in the dungeons forever.” I was in the other chair, drinking coffee and thinking dark thoughts.

“Are you sure? It effectively removes him from circulation and it must be driving him mad.”

“Considering this is Livius Erimond we’re talking about, that’s a very short drive,” I said. “But we’ve got to do _something_ with the rat. People expect it. Not to mention everyone from the Wardens to Tevinter has ceded his fate to the Inquisition.”

“Well, we certainly must keep up appearances. Have you decided what to do with him?”

I grunted in annoyance. “Not yet. Did you know him when you were in Vyrantium?”

Dorian shook his head. “I knew _of_ him. He was always a vicious little beast from the stories I heard of his younger days, very much taken with himself and _very_ ambitious. There’s no doubt he was involved with blood magic. He aligned himself with anyone who could get him ahead and was very invested in the idea that the Imperium should be restored to its former breadth and glory.  Essentially, if you were to put everything bad you’ve ever heard about Magisters into portrait form, you’d have a lovingly executed rendition of Livius Erimond. You’d probably get the feeling it was watching you and plotting your demise every time you turned your back on it.”

“So he has no redeeming qualities whatever? That makes things marginally easier, I suppose.”

“He had quite a good hairstylist back home. It’s clear he didn’t bring them along to the Western Approach, though.”

“That’s a redeeming quality?”

“It is if you happened to be looking for a good hairstylist in Minrathous.”

I laughed, then frowned into my coffee cup. “You know there are a lot of people calling for his head.”

“Considering what he did, I’m hardly surprised. Does that bother you?” His eyes met mine calmly, as if the subject were just an academic exercise.

“Well…yes. I won’t say I haven’t executed anyone for…monstrous acts, but I’ve never _ordered_ an execution.” I finished my coffee and poured another from the container on the table in front of me.

Dorian’s eyebrows flew up. “Well, you’re just full of surprises. When was this?”

“Those two years I was living in Ostwick. It’s an ugly story.” And this whole situation was making me think about it. For that alone I was ready to beat the supercilious smirk off Erimond’s face.

“Will I get to hear it at some point?”

I goosed the heat on my coffee with a small spell and sighed. “You probably should. I don’t think of it often, but here and there it hits me out of nowhere. I usually deal with those times by getting very drunk until I can pass out and it goes away again.”

He cocked his head to one side, studying me. “You’re serious, aren’t you.”

“Mm hm. I’ve never told anyone about it; it’s really no one’s business here. So consider yourself privileged. You’ll be only the second person to know that particular slice of my personal history.” I gave him a pained smile. 

“Is it terrible if I admit you’ve got me wildly curious now?”

“No. I would be too. I just want to get this shite with Erimond over with first. When I tell you the story I’m going to want the night off and enough beer to anesthetize myself. That being said, I still don’t feel comfortable ordering the man’s execution even if he does deserve it.”

“This will hardly be the first uncomfortable thing you have to do, amatus,” he said. “I can tell you Erimond is one man you do not want to recruit into the Inquisition’s ranks.”

“I know. And I’m sure he won’t do me the courtesy of dropping dead so I don’t have to worry about it.” I set my coffee mug down and rubbed my eyes. “Ugh. I should probably tell Josie I’ll be ready when she is.”

Dorian chuckled. “She’s probably been ready since shortly before dawn.”

“Right. I’ll rephrase that. At any rate, I’d best finish getting dressed and start Inquisiting.” 

I stood and, with a lazy gesture, Dorian stopped me in my tracks with a light binding spell. “Oh, no you don’t. Not until you remind me how wildly appreciative you are to have me here in your quarters in such a state of dishabille.”

“ _Our_ quarters.” I gave him what I hoped was a sultry smile as he released the binding spell, skirting the coffee table to reach him. “And having you here in that state is making it very difficult to want to go anywhere.” I sank to my knees in front of his chair.

He widened his eyes and smiled. “You know, having you in that position is giving me all manner of ideas.”

“I know. Hold those thoughts for later. Right now I just have time for a kiss.” 

“Who knew you were such a tease?” He scooted forward so we could embrace and indulge in said kiss, then I levered myself up with only a slight grunt of effort.

“You going to finish your tea, are you?” I pulled on my left boot and started lacing it.

“It’s very good tea. Don’t worry, I’ll be there when you make your pronouncement. Just remember — he is not recruitable.”

“Don’t _you_ worry. That won’t happen. It’s funny — I just remembered my father talking to me about having to sit in judgement back when it was assumed I’d be taking over from him when I grew up.”

“This whole thing seems to be driving you to fits of nostalgia,” Dorian observed.

“Well, the memory isn’t bad. I’m just surprised I remember at all. I couldn’t have been more than eleven.” I laced up the right boot and stood, checking that I hadn’t slopped anything on my clothes. “Well…I’ll see you out there.”

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Dorian quipped. (At least I hoped it was a quip.)

I blew him a kiss and trotted down the stairs.

**_-#-_ **

“As you can see, there are a few other matters demanding you weigh in. We’ll be saving Erimond for the end,” Josephine said.

I nodded, making a vague noise of acknowledgement as I looked over the agenda she’d written. “Why do I need to weigh in on who’s supplying turnips?”

“Because two days ago both suppliers showed up at the same time and the situation has escalated. They both refuse to leave and last night in the pub they came to blows over it. We had to put them in the dungeon overnight to cool them off.”

I looked up from the paper. “If I had my way there would be no turnips at Skyhold or anywhere else. Can’t stand the bloody things.”

“Let us hope that makes you an impartial judge.” She smiled, but her expression was a little worried.

“What? If you’re afraid I’m actually going to ban them…”

“Oh, no.” Josie chewed at her lower lip and finally said, “I was just wondering—are you going to be all right judging Erimond? He _is_ a fellow mage, and with Dorian being Tevinter…”

“You think I’ll be inclined to mitigate what he’s done?” The fact that her face reddened told me she’d been thinking exactly that. “Josephine, I learned a very long time ago that some of my fellow mages can be every bit as monstrous as anyone else. Nor does one’s country of origin bestow any particular qualities upon their character except a better ability to speak the native language. Don’t worry. He’ll get whatever he deserves. What all are we charging him with, anyway?”

She consulted her tablet. “Apostasy, conspiracy, blood magic, murder, attempted assassination — that would be you, Inquisitor — summoning demons for forceful possession, heresy…shall I go on?”

I paced in front of her desk. “No, that will do for now.” I stopped, raising an eyebrow at her. “But ‘apostasy’? Not only is he not a citizen of southern Thedas, but shouldn’t that charge be over with now? According to the Chantry, _I’m_ guilty of apostasy. I’ll not be a part of charging any mage with that, and I’d say we’ve got sufficient other charges.”

She nodded and scratched words out. “Understood. Should I assume you’ll also want the heresy charge removed?”

“Yes. Let’s keep religion out of this, shall we? You asked should you go on — does that mean there’s more?”

“You might want to look at this.” She handed me another sheet of paper. “It’s everything we know of that Erimond’s done.”

I read through it and handed it back to her. “Let’s finish this.”

_=#=_

Functionaries cleared the way and settled everyone down. Josie climbed the three low steps that raised the big, hexagonal dais above the crowd and stood to one side with her ever-present tablet as I trod up the three further steps to take my place on the throne placed at the centre and just a bit toward the back. It had been carved to look impressively magey, or so they claimed. It looked rather like a bloody great key with little, snaky dragons at the sides. The one thing they’d neglected in their quest for grandeur was seat cushions, so after a half hour or so it got damned uncomfortable. I tried to look neutral yet gravely judgemental. 

I understand the need for the throne and all the other trappings of authority, but I always felt vaguely silly if I thought too much about it. The idea that because I had a glowy chunk of magic embedded in my hand, I was somehow qualified to pass judgement on people just proves the vast majority of people don’t trouble themselves with critical thinking. All you need for them to hand you power is to be impressive or confident enough to scare them into thinking you must know something they don’t. It’s rather depressing, really.

Josie started the proceedings with cases like the turnip-sellers—things that were relatively trivial but had reached an impasse that was interfering with the smooth running of Skyhold. I paid enough attention to make a fair judgement, but in truth my mind was elsewhere.

I’d read that report on what all Livius Erimond had been up to, you see, and it had brought those scenes from the past that had been troubling me back with force. I was hoping his time in the dungeons might have knocked some sense and remorse into the magister, but knew that hope was likely futile. His sort tend to have only a nodding acquaintance with concepts like remorse at best.

As the hour dragged on, the usual crowd of hangers-on that infested Skyhold’s main hall were getting slowly pushed to the edges as others trickled in to watch the proceedings. First in of my inner circle were Cassandra and Cullen, followed by Blackwall, Bull and Krem. Varric and Sera came in together and I saw Solas emerge from his sanctum to park himself in the shadows near the edge of the crowd. 

I felt the familiar magical shape of one of Dorian’s spells as the door to our quarters opened and closed silently. He’d cast a _don’t notice me_ spell that he knew I’d notice. I glanced over and he gave me a small smile and encouraging nod. Leliana was somehow _there_ in the shadows of the big room opposite Solas. I didn’t see Cole, but there was nothing abnormal about that. He was likely around. I also didn’t see Vivienne, but imagined she was above on her favourite balcony where she could observe without having to stand among the press of her inferiors.

Finally it was time for the show everyone had come to see. I took a moment to drink some water (I had a pitcher and glass discreetly set to one side of the throne) and nodded at Josephine. There was a stir in the crowd as the door leading to the dungeons opened. Two guards came out, flanking a third man secured with lyrium shackles. They walked him down the centre of the great hall, stopping at the base of the dais.

Josie read from her prepared statements. “Adamant’s influence continues, Your Worship. I submit Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, who remains loyal to Corypheus. We found him alive, offering extreme resistance, likely because the Order will ask for his head. In more colourful terms. To say nothing of justice you might personally require for what was suffered in the Fade.”

As she read out the official list of charges we’d agreed on, I studied Erimond. He was looking a little worse for the wear after his time in the dungeons, his skin sallow and his long, black hair bedraggled. I’m sure his hairdresser would have despaired. He stared defiantly back at me, a smarmy little smirk playing about his lips. I’d seen that exact bloody smirk before on another mage’s face.

_"I'm charming and women think I'm good-looking.” Smooth words, easy flip of his long, dark hair, smug smirk for my eyes only. Happiest when he could manipulate, instigate, spread his poison._

“I’m struggling to understand how judging you can make up for anything that happened,” I said.

He sneered at me, unrepentant. “I recognize none of this proceeding. You have no authority to judge me.”

_Wide grey eyes, empty and shocked. Greasy smoke dissipating in the air. Silent house, a small embroidered pillow, his sated grin._

Josie was saying, “On the contrary. Many officials have communicated that they will defer to the Inquisitor on this matter.”

Erimond scoffed, “Because they fear. Not _just_ Corypheus, but Tevinter, rightful ruler of every piece of ground you’ve trod in your pathetic life.”

_“_ _…I knew,” my former First Enchanter grimaced. “I knew that poisonous little bastard was dangerous and I did nothing.”_

Erimond stood defiantly, proud of his deeds. “I served a _living god._ Bring down your blades and free me from the physical. Glory awaits me.”

_“_ _…I hesitated to take such an extreme step. You understand?”_

Erimond smirked at me, confident that even his death would be a victory.

 _“I should never have hesitated. We all_ knew _there was something ugly about him.”_

He smirked. And I’d seen that same damnable smirk before.

I kept my voice level, but loud enough that everyone could hear. Some people were about to get very pissed off at me. 

“You are the worst of us. The damage you have done is beyond all reckoning. The pride you take in that is a condemnation in itself.” I raised my hand, literally pointing at him in judgement. “A mage’s crime warrants a mage’s punishment. You think death will bring you glory? Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, I deny you death.” I paused a beat, then said the word. 

“Tranquility.”

I heard people gasp. As his guards took his arms, Erimond gaped at me in disbelieving panic. “You…you cannot!” Panic mixed with impotent rage and he shouted, “I am a _lord_ , you pissants! I will not lose myself!”

I sat still on my throne of judgement, watching. He was still raging and protesting as the heavy door closed behind them. I felt nothing.

I stood and crossed the short distance to the door to our quarters. Everyone got out of my way. No one said anything and no one tried to stop me as I opened the door. I looked at Dorian and raised an eyebrow. He fell in beside me and we went through together. As soon as the door closed I warded it so no one would be able to bother us. He looked upset and I knew he wanted answers, but neither one of us spoke until we’d climbed the stairs and closed and warded the upper door too.

I took off my leather overvest and heavy shirt, left the lighter undershirt on, threw myself into one of our comfortable chairs. Dorian watched all of this from in front of the desk where he’d parked himself, arms folded across his chest.

When he spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. “Are you going to tell me why?”

I was straddling the line between feeling nothing and feeling intensely tired, but he needed to understand. “If you’d be so kind as to get me more than enough alcohol, I’ll tell you everything. You might want to get something for yourself too.”

“Is that wise?”

I looked him in the eyes. “It’s necessary.”

He studied me for a moment and gave a sharp nod. “I’ll be back. I don’t suppose I need to say don’t go anywhere.”

“No, I suppose not.”

I sat and stared at nothing in particular until Dorian came back with a booze-laden servant in tow. The alcohol was set on the coffee table and the servant left. Dorian warded the door shut again behind him and busied himself pouring a glass of wine while I chilled my first bottle of beer with a small freezing spell.

He sat across from me, took a sip of his wine and set the glass down with a precise little _klink_. His eyes — a lighter, warmer shade of grey than mine — bored into me as he said, “Well, Kai? What in this great world could possibly have spurred you to the incredible decision to order _any_ mage — even a worm like Erimond — made _tranquil_?”

 _Kai,_ I noted, not _amatus_.

I took a too-large drink and met his angry, accusing look straight on. “I’ve told you how much I hated the Circle. How I never did manage to fully adapt to it.”

He took the apparent change of subject in stride. “I take it that’s where the story begins?”

I made a noise of agreement around another too-large drink. This wasn’t going to be easy. “I was not the well-adjusted, urbane fellow you know back then. It may even be that I was difficult to put up with, especially given my inability to adapt. I did not have a vast circle of friends, but there were a few who seemed to like me despite my being moody and subject to fits of depression. There was one in particular…”

Once he had sufficient back story (and was involved enough that he no longer looked angry), I uncorked another beer and took a deep breath. Sparing no detail, I told him about those few terrible days in Ostwick. I’d never told anyone, and I was a little surprised and shaken by just how deeply it was affecting me even though a good three years had passed. I managed to avoid outright crying, but I did have to stop and swipe at my eyes a few times, and when I finished I felt shaky and…vulnerable. 

Dorian had been very quiet while I talked, listening attentively and only asking a few questions. I had no idea what he thought, and I felt like curling up deeper into my chair and disappearing, or at least drinking myself into a stupor. It was a measure of how off-balance I was that part of me was sure he’d still be angry or disgusted with my decision, or maybe contemptuous that I hadn’t handled things better, had let things from my past affect me.

He was none of those, of course. When he was sure I was done, he stood and held his hands out to me. “Come with me.”

I took his hands and stood. We didn’t go far—just to the couch. He pulled me down next to him and put his arms around me. I stiffened for a moment, then told myself I was being a jackass and took the comfort he was offering. He was warm and strong and _present_. For once I was conscious of that small, steady current of magic that always runs through both of us, how it meshed with mine when we were that close. He smelled of soap and spice and wine and the undefinable scent that was _Dorian._ For a time I was able to lose myself in the feel of him and not think about horrors old or new.

I’m not sure how long we simply held one another. Long enough that I regained a bit of equilibrium and pulled back enough to look him in the eyes, though I didn’t let go of him completely. “Do you understand now?” 

“I think I do — that was ghastly and I think you handled it better than anyone had a right to expect — but…you couldn’t have simply had Erimond executed?”

“No. He _wanted_ that. In his mind he’d go out in a blaze of glory and he doesn’t deserve that. So execution was out but that left only a handful of options, any of which could conceivably end up with him free to roam the world again except that one. And even though the very idea of ordering someone be made tranquil turns my stomach, I couldn’t hesitate. I couldn’t let that happen again.”

Dorian nodded slowly. “He’s more than proven he’s a monster.”

“Yes, and another intelligent one. So put him to work where he can do some good and make up for some of the pain he’s caused.”

He looked at me searchingly and his lips quirked into a slight smile. “You know, I’d never have been able to conceive of anyone convincing me tranquility was the correct decision for _any_ mage. Once again you are not at all what I expected, amatus.”

“Does this mean you don’t hate me?” I said it lightly, but actually felt a little fillip of nervousness before he answered. I assumed that meant I was more shaken than I’d thought.

“No, I do not hate you. Any more questions like that and I am going to assume you’re just fishing for compliments. I-” He paused then said quietly, “Thank you for telling me.”

“Please don’t tell anyone else,” I said. 

He feigned shock. “Of course not. What kind of gossipy mooncalf do you think I am?”

That made me laugh, which made me love him all the more.

He grinned crookedly. “That’s better. I expect were it not for my effervescent presence you would have crawled inside those bottles and stayed there the rest of the week.”

“I expect you’re right,” I said ruefully. “Not that I don’t want another drink.”

“I don’t blame you one bit. But at least I won’t allow you to _sulk_.”

“I’m very good at sulking, though,” I said.

He grimaced. “I know.” He traced his fingers lightly down my left side where everything’s more sensitive, smiling at my involuntary shiver. “So…are you all right?”

“Not completely,” I admitted. “That…took more out of me than I expected. But I will be. You’re helping more than you could know.”

He looked honestly pleased at that. “Well, then, perhaps we should attempt to turn to more pleasant pursuits for the rest of the evening.”

“I’d like that.”

I was sure I was going to be in for it the next day and was already expecting vitriol from the mages along with cheers from people I’d really rather not cheer me, but I wasn’t worried about it. Dorian understood my decision and his was the only opinion that really mattered to me.  Otherwise, they wanted The Inquisitor to pass judgement, and The Inquisitor had. 

No matter what, Livius Erimond would never pose a threat to anyone again.  


**Author's Note:**

> The full story of the Thing that happened in Ostwick (as well as what else happened during Kai's two years living there before the Conclave changed his life forever) can be found in my work, "Departures".
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated!


End file.
